


Revelry in Darkness

by Dreamkissed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Bottom Bellatrix Black, Crucio and Cuddle, F/F, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Heavy BDSM, Play Party, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Top Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamkissed/pseuds/Dreamkissed
Summary: War never changes, and despite the propaganda little changed once it ended.  Going on a decade after the dust settled and society rebuilt, two women enjoy their places in life and find joy in each other.  Love comes in many forms and grows in just as many ways and Hermione and Bellatrix are no exception.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	Revelry in Darkness

Traveling cloaks were a magnificent creation, they were socially acceptable, often fashionable, and most importantly, counted as ‘vanilla clothing’ as far as revel hosts were concerned. The cloak also made it easy to dress for parties. She could take her time, make sure she was perfect, throw on the cloak, and go. When she arrived, all she had to do was unclasp her cloak and bathe in the gazes she received. For all her accomplishments, the moment she sauntered into a revel was when she felt most alive.

It was not often Hermione received an invitation to the typical revels. Certainly, her position ensured she received invitations to the quarterly festivals and annual bacchanal, but the weekly and semi-weekly revels were not something an Associate Professor typically got invitations to attend. However, this night, school business detained McGonagall and she had kindly given Hermione her invitation. Hermione was going to take full advantage of it.

Hermione apparated to just outside of the gates to Malfoy Manor, tonight’s host. She paused a moment to look over the gates. Amusement shined on her face as she pushed open the heavy iron gate to the manor grounds. Dim blue candles that cast enough light to walk safely lined the trail. The glow did not illuminate much beyond the trail. Draco answered the door, took her invitation and welcomed her in gracefully. She enjoyed the bashful look on his face when he took her cloak and revealed what she wore.

She always dressed to impress for a revel, and this was no different. She wore a lace and satin corselet with matched gloves, stockings, and garters. The entire outfit was a deep crimson red with gold threading decorating the trim. The belt around her waist attached to thigh straps, gold buckles on blood-red leather. A red and black knit enchanted bag hung from the belt, while her wand and a ritual dagger rested in respective thigh holsters.

Draco motioned to the curtains, his wide eyes revealed the still-present shock every time he saw her like this. “Professor Granger, welcome to tonight’s revel. You are aware of the rules and expectations.”

Hermione cringed internally, McGonagall’s invitation was due to her position as Headmistress, among other reasons, and that carried an obligation she would have to complete before she could play. “Mister Malfoy, I am aware, and thank you for the invitation.”

She swept through the curtains and entered the main social room. The buzz of magic and hormones filled the air alongside conversation. She took a glance around quickly, judged her outfit right among the other guests. As much as the revels were decadent sensual parties, they were also pureblooded social battlefields. Her bare neck and smooth back attested to her skills and position in this arena.

Hermione plucked a crystal flute of Dragon’s Blood from a passing waitress and began to mingle. Her eyes lingered on the women at the party; she never made any pretense in her preferences here. By the looks she received in return, she would have options after her target. More than one noble heiress or lady had enjoyed debauching herself under Hermione’s hands.

The low hissing chuckle from behind her brought a relived feeling; she would not have to search hard. She spun around slowly on her toes and sketched a skirtless one-handed curtsy, accompanied by a slight bow of her head. “Lord Voldemort, it is a pleasure to see you well. The Headmistress sends her deepest regrets; she was detained by some time-sensitive school business.”

The Dark Lord’s diaphanous robes gave the appearance of ghostly figure wreathed in dark smoke. Despite the cut, or perhaps because of it, he was a striking, confident, and powerful figure. Hermione could see how the man could attract so many to follow him. Despite all that has happened in the world, she still tended to avoid his attentions at revels.

“The castle’s magic does have unique timing.” He gestured with a single hand for her to rise up. “Please pass on my fondest regards to Minerva,” Hermione notes the fragile affection in his rasped words, fractured souls took time to heal, more than just a decade.

Hermione straightened up and smoothed her expression to polite neutrality. She would not be able to leave the conversation first, to do so would be to snub her social better. “I would be honored, Dark Lord.”

The hissed laughter bordered in unsettling to Hermione. Voldemort’s red eyes bored into Hermione’s to probe her mental defenses subtly. “Please, call me, ‘My Lord’.” He waved off her familiar protest on propriety and positions. “One of these days, I will convince you to kneel before me.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed as she broke the eye contact and briefly glanced down Voldemort’s body. She realized the inadvertent half once-over she gave; she looked to the side and cleared her throat. “Right, perhaps one day, we don’t know what the future holds, but it will be when we are far more dressed than now.”

“Of course, Professor Granger.” The use of her name and title still surprised her every time Voldemort used it. Professional recognition was a long way from the names she used to hear during the war. He also seemed to be in no hurry to move on. “Speaking of school matters, how is my heiress doing?

Hermione’s chuckle was polite, measured. She once more met Voldemort’s gaze and no longer felt the subtle testing of her occlumency skills. “Delphini? She is delightfully precocious. Though her spirit and energy make transfiguration more of a challenge. She has the skill, but not the focus yet.”

Voldemort laughter heartily, an odd sound, mixed with a resonant hiss. “She has spoken colorfully of you as well, how you push her. But you know how it is with Riddles and Transfiguration Professors.”

Hermione’s laugh was less bright than Voldemort’s, but the smile was genuine. “I’m sure, I only push her as far as I know she can handle. I won’t be making the same mistakes he did.” She gave Voldemort a pointed look.

“Of course not.” Voldemort’s smile widened as he made a show of looking over Hermione’s shoulder. “Ah, it is nice to see Bellatrix made it tonight.” Hermione’s head quickly turned to look as well, the chuckle from Voldemort made it clear to her that the Dark Lord was messing with her. When she turned around, she noticed the crystal flute in his hand, half-raised. “It is almost adorable how you so shamelessly show how you feel for her.”

Hermione braced herself and raised her own glass, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “My apologies, Dark Lord, I am not certain how to explain it.”

Voldemort’s hiss silenced her, thin lips curled into a smile. “Nonsense, you are good for her, to her. Far better than I was. You can give her what she needs.” He nodded towards the opening to the large play space. “She is in there.” He looked back to Hermione, a slightly unsettling grin on her face, laced with the edges of his inhumanity and dark magic. “To the darkness, and the light, and everlasting glory.” He raised his flute.

Hermione smiled and raised her own flute. “To the flesh, and the soul, and everlasting pleasure.” She threw her own glass back and downed the contents in a single steady swallow. The drink settled in her belly and ignited a pleasant and inspiring warmth further down. She felt the start of a buzz almost instantly. She acknowledged the Dark Lord’s dismissal and moved towards the central play area. Her hips carried an extra sway as she walked, her posture radiated confidence and control.

Her eyes quickly found Bellatrix Black, and the scorching gaze she gave would have burned off anything she wore had she been in more than just a pair of boots. She looked over Bellatrix’s back and traced the familiar, existing scars, not seeing any bruises or marks from the last time. No one else would dare to do what she did next; no one else would dare consider the idea.

Hermione stepped up behind Bellatrix and fit her body against Bellatrix’s back. Her arms snaked around Bellatrix’s waist and gave her a squeeze. She rested her chin on her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek, savoring the cinnamon-pine rose scent of her wild curls. She made a content, suggestive moaning sound as she pressed her lips to the Azkaban tattoo on her neck. “How is my crazy dark kitten doing?”

“Muddy.” A shiver at Hermione’s possessive tone accompanied Bellatrix’s drawl. She leaned against her, into the hug. She placed her hand on top of one of Hermione’s and tugged on it, attempting to slide it down lower. “I’m surprised to see you here. I figured you would be grading papers with Potter all night.”

Hermione’s fingers tightened under Bellatrix’s hand and dug into her bare skin. She kept her hand in place, not letting Bellatrix pull. “I don’t want to think about the boy, or work, or anything but what I am going to do to you.” She kept her lips pressed against Bellatrix’s neck, raking skin with her teeth. She held tight as Bellatrix squirmed under her, the whining sound made her laugh. “Shh, use your words kitten, tell me what you want. Tell me you want to play.”

Bellatrix let out another mewling whine. She shook her head only lean it to one side to give Hermione better access. The nails digging into her belly were not doing so gently, and she was unable to pull Hermione’s hand. “I know you’ve missed me, muddy. I know you want to play as much as I do.”

Hermione laughed softly at Bellatrix’s words. She growled her response through her teeth-baring grin. She moved one hand down, the other up Bellatrix’s body, raking her nails along her skin. “Now now, you know that’s not what you are supposed to call me, and since you don’t want to do this quietly.” Her voice dropped an octave, to a quiet whisper. “Beg for it. Beg to be mine.” She bit down on the runic ninety-three tattoo on Bellatrix’s neck and traced it with her tongue.

Bellatrix’s legs gave out slightly, held up by Hermione’s grip on her body. The moan from her carried into a simpering whine. Hermione may be able to overpower her physically, emotionally, but she did not want to fight tonight. “Please, Mistress, take me, make me yours, make me scream, hurt me.”

Hermione lowered Bellatrix to her knees and let her go. She moved in front of Bellatrix and reached into her beaded bag. With the help of the locating charm within the bag, she pulled out the crimson leather collar, front sporting her family crest. She placed the collar around Bellatrix’s neck and closed the clasp. She slipped a small padlock shut on the buckle and fluffed out her hair.

“Hands.” Hermione snapped her fingers, pulling out a pair of matched wrist cuffs and padlocks. Taking each of Bellatrix’s hands in turn, she secured the cuffs around her wrists. She kept her eyes on her work, putting up an indifferent aura as Bellatrix kept still.

Bellatrix offered her legs up for the matching cuffs around her ankles. “How do you want to take me, Mistress?” She kept her gaze as Hermione pulled her to her feet with a finger through the collar ring.

Hermione grinned and lead Bellatrix to an empty St. Andrew’s Cross. “Face the wall, arms and legs spread.” Most witches and wizards used spells to restrain a bottom, but there was something Dominantly satisfying about physically forcing a bottom to do something. It was a tiny bit of payback, her pound of flesh for what Bellatrix did to her during the war.

Hermione moved with Bellatrix and pinned her against the padded leather. “That’s a good witch.” She cooed into Bellatrix’s neck and suckled on the flesh of her shoulder. One hand held Bellatrix’s neck with a finger through the collar ring, snug grip giving her a reminder of what Hermione could do. She used her free hand and position to pull Bellatrix’s arms up, snapping the attached carabiners on the cuffs to the hitch loops on the cross.

Bellatrix let out a hungry groan, her back arching in response as Hermione raked her fingernails down her back. She did not need any prompting to spread her legs so Hermione could restrain them. She responded to the firm bite to her right thigh with a shuddering moan, muffling the scream she wanted to let loose with the padded leather headrest.

Hermione gave Bellatrix’s butt a double-handled harsh slap before she let her hands roam over Bellatrix’s body. She caressed and scratched Bellatrix’s naked flesh with her fingertips, following each fading red line she left with her tongue. Once on her feet again, she took several steps away from Bellatrix.

She reached into her bag and pulled out several floggers in various lengths and styles. Hermione clipped each one onto loops on her belt, the handles of each toy modified herself. Satisfied with her selection she took the first flogger in hand. Soft wide brown leather falls and a short length, it would be a good warm-up, both for her arm and Bellatrix.

Her free hand pressed against Bellatrix’s back firmly. She dragged it over Bellatrix’s skin and savored the muscles and tightness in her body. She watched Bellatrix’s reactions, her groans and moans, mentally mapping out her routine.

Hermione delivered a well-placed slap on the side of Bellatrix’s thigh, giggling at the reaction. She leaned close to Bellatrix’s ear. “Are you ready for this my beautiful canvas?”

Bellatrix nodded excitedly, shameless in her wanton moans. “More than ready, Mistress. Please take me.” The first slap of the flogger on her back brought a content sound from her and she willed herself to relax against the leather padding and restraints.

Hermione knew that Bellatrix would not be able to handle this for long, but she needed to stretch her arms and back out for what would come next. She switched hands and worked through a couple of exercises, not letting the rhythm break.

Feeling loosened up, and seeing Bellatrix starting to squirm, she knew it was time to begin. She lifted the matching mate to the flogger from her belt and added it into her sequence. She thumbed the trigger on the enlargement charm woven into the handles. The falls both lengthened and thickened, going from warm-up to play between throws.

Bellatrix’s squirms stilled as soft slaps became steady thuds. The drumbeat that Hermione’s Florentine drilled into her demanded her body to relax under it. She felt her breathing and her heart synchronizing to the tempo. The tender warmth in her back began spreading, heating her up. Her hips began rocking in time involuntarily.

Hermione worked the floggers over Bellatrix’s back and body, increasing the force and speed. Her own breathing steadied as her focus narrowed to just her and Bellatrix. Hermione saw the true beauty in the bright crimson beneath the pale skin of Bellatrix’s back. She felt Bellatrix sinking quickly, something more than just sight or sound. 

Mid-twirl, Hermione dropped the floggers over her shoulders as if part of a routine. She knew her hands would feel like ice as she stepped up and grabbed Bellatrix’s back. Her hands traced a firm caress through liquid muscles. After a quick check that she had not broken any skin yet, she changed her caresses to a gentle raking of her nails. She leaned close, tracing non-magical patterns along Bellatrix’s body. She pressed her lips between Bellatrix’s shoulder blades to taste the salt-tinged skin. The longing whimper she heard in response encouraged her to bite down on the flesh between her teeth. It was not enough to draw blood, but she was certain Bellatrix would not be able to tell at this point.

The keening moans and whispered pleas made Hermione chuckle into Bellatrix’s flesh. She slid her knee up and braced her foot on the support to the frame. She jammed her thigh between Bellatrix’s legs and dragged her stocking covered thigh roughly against the molten heat she found. She gave Bellatrix’s thigh a hard slap with one hand as she put an arm around Bellatrix’s neck. “You’re so fucking wet aren’t you.” Hermione traced her tongue around the edge of Bellatrix’s ear.

All that mattered to Bellatrix at that moment was her Mistress, the sensations she gifted her. She would not let something pathetic as shame keep her from pleasing her Mistress. “Yes, Muddy, soaking dripping wet, all for you.” She pleaded as if her life depended on it, accompanying the words with a roll of her hips, grinding against the roughness of the silk between her legs. “It’s yours, Muddy Mistress, I’m yours, take me like you want to, as I need you.” She leaned forward towards the arm in front of her. She dragged her tongue along the cursed scar and peppered it with kisses, each accompanied with a murmured breathless ‘please’.

Hermione pulled her arm away from Bellatrix with a hiss as she responded swiftly with a sharp slap to the other thigh, followed by a series of quick short punches to the meaty part of Bellatrix’s shoulder and back. “So you want to have it like that Bellatrix? A little chat like old times?” She leaned in to whisper, her words dangerously low. Her hand slid down to her thigh holster and unsheathed her dagger; slowly she traced the tip from Bellatrix’s thigh, up her side, and along her neck and cheek. “Just girl, to girl?”

Bellatrix turned her head as shivers rippled through her body from the cold steel touching it. She met Hermione’s eyes, the defiant glare tempered by the glassy distance of subspace. Rather than words, she responded by parting her lips and traced her tongue along the surface of the knife barely inches from her face. Seeing Hermione tighten her grip and brace her arm against the frame, she leaned in. With absolute trust, she closed her lips around the blade and began bobbing her head with slow deliberate movements.

Hermione’s groan came out like a growl. The sight of Bellatrix conducting oral sex with her dagger sent lightning to her core as if it was the flesh and blood her submissive’s actions emulated. She let Bellatrix have her fun for a minute or two, keeping her hands and body almost petrified. “That’s enough Bellatrix, you know what I want to hear from you, you know what I want you to tell me.” As Bellatrix opened her mouth and relaxed, she drew the knife back. As she took a step away from Bellatrix, she crouched down and began to work. She focused on Bellatrix’s back, butt, and legs with all the finesse of a figure skater, tracing the dagger right on the edge of sensation without actually cutting. The charm within the handle caused the blade’s temperature to drop back down from the warmth of Bellatrix’s mouth, frost forming on the edge not in contact with Bellatrix’s skin.

Bellatrix tried to count to ten, tried to think of anything but the desire and need coursing through her, “FUCK! Fuck me, Mistress. I need you now! I can’t take it!” Damn the consequences, she needed to feel her Mistress’s possession of her, body mind and soul instantly.

Hermione stilled, her expression turning as cold as her blade. “That easily, you must want it bad you little pureblood SLUT!” She sheathed her dagger, deactivating the charm. Her slap echoed in the room quieting it instantly. She dragged her nails, raking and harsh along Bellatrix's skin before she undid the carabiners holding her legs. At the attempt to move, she sunk her nails into Bellatrix’s calf, a flinch would have blood drawn. “Do not move unless I tell you to Bellatrix.”

It was now Bellatrix’s turn to freeze as she recognized the dangerously lethal chill in Hermione’s voice. She promptly regretted both, living by no regrets, and the idea of damning the consequences. She followed the orders as Hermione released her arms, keeping them in position despite the painful strain of doing so. She swallowed the moan of pleasure and discomfort as Hermione spun her around and rebound her, facing outwards. The sight before her caused her held whimper to escape accompanied by the only words that might give her an ounce of mercy. “How may I serve you, my Lady?” Hermione the Mistress had left for the night and Hermione the Dominatrix looked at her with a raw, primal, possessive thirst.

“You are very lucky that I finished your present early. I was saving it for Easter hols, but I can see you want it now.” Hermione stepped back and reached into her enchanted bag. She could feel the air between them charging, and the room around her gathering to watch. This was going to be one of those scenes that stopped the party so people could enjoy the show. A little extra theatricality would certainly satisfy her and make sure Bellatrix enjoy what she was about to inflict on her.

Hermione pulled the present from her pack, letting it hang free from one hand so Bellatrix had a clear view. The gasp from some around her and the keening whimper from Bellatrix was better than she expected. A dragon’s tail, not from an actual dragon, though this one was made from dragonhide leather, the only material strong enough to handle the enchantment woven into the black leather. The angry red lightning cracks along the surface hinted at the type of magical runes concealed by Hermione’s hand.

Bellatrix’s eyes traced each of those cracks, shaking her head slowly in fear. The moans disguised as whimpers and the way her thighs and hips moved revealed the truth of her feelings to Hermione. She knew her safe words and had no problems using them. She would happily give into her Mistress’ desires. “Thank you for your present, my Lady.” Her voice shook as she watched, willing her eyes to remain open.

Hermione’s first swing was light, landing the thickest part of the dragon tail against Bellatrix’s breast with a loud slapping sound. The next came at an increasing pace, tenderizing almost, leaving light blushes where they hit. She painted Bellatrix’s front, her breasts, belly, hips, thighs, and carefully along her arms. Catching the tail on the backswing, she pulled tension on the leather and lined up her next throw. The crack of the tail sounded simultaneous with Bellatrix’s howl. “Don’t tense up!” She delivered a second crack, an inch away from Bellatrix’s thigh. “Relax and breathe through it.” She purred harshly, preparing for a third hit. “Are you good?”

Bellatrix took a moment along with several deep breaths through her nose, hissing as she felt the pain from the first hit radiate through her body. “I’m good my Lady.” She willed herself to relax, knowing that several more were coming. Each crack of the whip against her flesh brought a howling sound from her lips. By the fifth lash, she was whimpering between each impact, and by the time Hermione finished with ten, she was sobbing.

Hermione let the dragon’s tail hang from her hand as she stepped close to Bellatrix. Her hand brushed over each of the ten spots she hit, examining each of them. “That wasn’t so bad was it?” Her cooing sound dripped of sarcasm. None of the marks had broken skin, and she waited for Bellatrix to stop sobbing. She grabbed Bellatrix’s chin and made sure she had her attention. Hermione’s voice was chill and hard, fully serious. “Now that was the warm up. I know you can see this is enchanted, it took a little bit of work to do, but I know what you like, what you need.”

Hermione leaned in and mock-whispered in Bellatrix’s ear, aware the partygoers could hear her still. “It doesn’t count if you cast it on an object.” Hermione stepped back and gave the dragon’s tail several swirling swings, loosening it up. She turned the handle and pressed her thumb to the enchanted rune. Red lightning arced along the embedded cracks and Hermione’s hand. She tensed up briefly and took several deep breaths as she felt the pain radiating up her arm.

The surrounding crowd’s gasp was as loud as Bellatrix’s. She watched Hermione in awe and carnal fear. She trembled and shifted in her bonds, torn between tension and willing herself to relax. “I’m ready My Lady, I can take it!” She shouted as if trying to convince herself more than Hermione.

The first crack sent the familiar electric pain through Bellatrix’s thigh where Hermione landed the tip. The howl she let out filled the room and her body bucked against the restraints. She breathed hard, choking back renewed sobs as she waited for the next.

Hermione’s hand slid along Bellatrix’s trembling body, focusing on the spot the dragon tail hit. She crouched down gracefully and licked the red heated mark. With a satisfied moan, she stood back up and took aim with the tail.

The second and third lashes came in rapid succession. She followed those up with the caress and a bite before repeating the process. Bellatrix’s howls and sobbing became inhuman as the dragon tail cracked five more times against her skin. Each focused hit amplified by a full-body shocking jolt of pure pain.

Hermione stood back, half out of breath from the intensity of the scene and the charm backlash on the dragon’s tail. She grinned proudly as she took in the view of Bellatrix, how she hung in her bonds bonelessly with only soft whimpers coming from her lips.

She clipped the dragon's tail to her belt and stepped close to Bellatrix. She left her bound and began caressing her body. “It’s okay, you did wonderfully, it’s time for your reward Trixie.” Hermione’s hands focused first on the bruises and marks she made using a mix of firm pressure and soft touches. She leaned in to kiss the tattoo on the side of Bellatrix’s neck, biting it as she suckled, leaving her mark over the cursed ink. Her hands slid lower as she pressed her body against Bellatrix and let the exhausted witch take her weight.

Hermione slid her hand between Bellatrix’s legs, two fingers slipping between her drenched lips and effortlessly plunging into Bellatrix. Liquid fire was the closest approximation to the molten heat she found. Boneless muscles came to life around her fingers and it took only the briefest touch to unleash the orgasm from Bellatrix.

The focus now was on prolonging and keeping Bellatrix in that state. Her fingers and thumb worked on familiar spots inside Bellatrix. A few moments later, Hermione had her fist up past her wrist inside Bellatrix. Her lips closed around her clit as if she could suck it free of her body. Her other hand traced red lines between bruises and marks.

Hermione kept count until she felt Bellatrix finally lose consciousness and the orgasmic high fade. She took advantage of Bellatrix's passed out state as usual to clean things up. She unshackled Bellatrix and laid her on the ground carefully to the side. She only used her wand for the last part, sanitizing spells, the rest she did by hand. All her gear but her aftercare supplies were back in the bag on her belt. She made sure the cross was how she started the scene before focusing on Bellatrix.

Hermione carried Bellatrix over to a couch and wrapped her in the leopard print fleece blanket. She mixed whispers of praise and gratitude with wandless cleansing spells. They were not a substitute for a proper shower and a bath, but were more than enough to make a lady feel fresh after such a thorough fucking.

She brushed her fingers through Bellatrix’s hair as she began to stir. “Are you in there, kitten?” She purred softly as she grinned down at Bellatrix.

“I’m here Mistress.” Bellatrix blinked lazily and stretched out with a groan. She sat up in Hermione’s lap and moved her arms from inside the blanket. She pulled herself to an upright sitting position.

Hermione laughed lightly and moved her hand to caress Bella’s cheek. She adjusted the blanket so Bellatrix remained wrapped inside it. “How are you feeling?”

“Well fucked, very very well fucked. Satisfied.” Bellatrix paused and looked to Hermione with a happy spark in her eyes. “I needed that so much.”

Hermione chuckled and nuzzled her nose against Bellatrix’s nose. Her free hand reached for the already loosened bottle of water. “I needed it too, thank you so much.”

Bellatrix took the bottle in hand and used her teeth to take off the top. She downed a quarter of it in one gulp. “Ahh. I hate you.” She leaned back up, head tilted.

“I hate you too.” Hermione leaned down and met Bellatrix’s lips in a soft tender kiss.


End file.
